


When Cat Met Snake

by Sefiru



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, D/s, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Military, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smoking, Spies, This Relationship Is Probably Unhealthy, handjob, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sefiru/pseuds/Sefiru
Summary: In which MGS3 ends slightly differently, and Ocelot ends up shacking up with Naked Snake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another old piece from a fandom I no longer follow. I do have a whole head-canon about this premise running right up through MGS4, so this may yet become a series.

On a seaplane, taxiing across a lake in Russia, a cat and a snake are battling …

With a twist Snake rolled Ocelot onto his back, straddling his hips to pin him down. To his surprise, there was an unmistakeable bulge in Ocelot’s pants. “What do we have here?” he growled. Ocelot blushed faintly; Snake was struck with an idea, the kind of idea that only made sense at the end of a mission when soldiers were running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep.

Ocelot was mortified that Snake had noticed his arousal. In a gunfight he would have been safe, but CQC was a much more … personal … way to fight. This was rapidly replaced by alarm as Snake gave him a mischievous smile. In an eyeblink he had Ocelot’s wrists pinned behind his back and was pulling him upright. The other hand was … unbuttoning his pants. Ocelot stopped resisting.

“Suck it,” Snake ordered, pushing Ocelot’s lips against his tip. All rational thought fled Ocelot’s mind. He’d had dreams of this over the last two weeks; they did not prepare him for the reality. All social convention said that he should struggle, that he should reject this; he ignored it. The heat of the shaft in his mouth seared into him, and his own body pulsed with need. He squirmed in Snake’s grip, desperate for an outlet. Snake growled, shifted his weight, and planted one boot on Ocelot’s groin. Ocelot ground against him helplessly as he continued to suck on him – not that he had any choice, with Snake’s hands holding his head in place. A slight tensing of those powerful fingers was the only warning he got, and then Snake shot his load onto the back of his throat. This, and the knowledge that Snake had once again totally dominated him, sent Ocelot over the edge as well. He arched his back and screamed around Snake’s cock as he came, then dropped limply onto the deck.

Snake held back a grin as he released Ocelot from his grip. The Russian agent was staring at him like he was Jesus come down from heaven – quite a change from his attitude before. Snake ruffled Ocelot’s hair with one hand while he did up his pants with the other. “Nice work, kid.”

He hadn’t thought anyone could blush any brighter, but Ocelot managed it. The Russian visibly collected himself before trying his usual arrogant laugh. “That was fun.”

Just then Eva yelled back from the cockpit that they were running out of lake. “You should get going,” Snake said.

“See you around, John.” And with that, Ocelot dove out of the open hatch. Snake went forward and buckled into the seat beside Eva.

“Do I get a shot too?” she asked. Snake grunted in response.


	2. Chapter 2

Snake took a last glance at the Boss’s grave as he turned to leave the cemetery. Her burial had been a match for her life and her death: secret, in the dark of night, with sod laid over her grave to make it look older than it was. He didn’t even know if her body was really under that headstone.

Ocelot leaned against a fencepost as he waited for Snake to exit the graveyard. He had wasted no time in tracking the other man down, but there was only one reason why Snake would visit this place, and Ocelot knew better than to interrupt.

As Snake walked through the cemetery gate, he sensed somebody watching him; sweeping his eye across the parking lot, he spotted the man leaning against a post. A man he hadn’t expected to see on this side of the planet. To Snake’s amusement, Ocelot was blushing faintly. I guess that time on the plane was memorable for us both. “What are you doing here?” Snake growled at him.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk?” Ocelot was wearing his revolvers, Snake noted, but his hands were well away from them. “Meet me at my place.”

Ocelot nodded sharply, and Snake strode towards his car.

After catching sight of Snake in full dress uniform, Ocelot barely had two brain cells to spare for thought. Snake in camo and face paint had dominated the battlefield; Snake in dress greens and beret, ramrod-straight and grim-faced … with a snap of his fingers he could have Ocelot on his knees and ready to do whatever he ordered. Yes, right in the middle of a public parking lot. Ocelot felt his cheeks heat as that cool green eye studied him. Only after Snake left did he notice that Snake hadn’t mentioned his address. But then, Ocelot wasn’t a spy for nothing.

***

Snake had a little one-storey house tucked in the back corner of a suburb near the base; it had a broad yard with woods on two sides. When Snake pulled up, Ocelot was already leaning against the wall, a motorcycle just visible in the house’s shadow.

“In,” Snake told him as he unlocked the door. His gut was still telling him that Ocelot wasn’t here to fight; his instincts were never wrong, so he wondered what the Russian was up to instead. Still, just in case, “Weapons on the table,” he growled. He sat down on his battered leather sofa and put a foot up on said table. Taking out a cigar, he watched Ocelot drop both his revolvers, a pouch of bullets and half a dozen knives. The Russian stepped back and stood at parade rest.

Snake lit his cigar. “Now, spill. Who are you really?”

“Adam is the closest I have to a real name. I was raised by the Philosophers to be a double agent and I’m currently an active member of GRU, the KGB, and the CIA.”

“What do you want here?”

“You! Whenever we met, you dominated me at every level.”

“So, revenge then?”

“No. I want more of the same.” Ocelot’s gaze was direct despite the blush staining his cheeks. Snake suppressed a smirk. He knew where this was going, but he couldn’t resist stringing it out a bit more.

“Who put you up to this?”

Ocelot’s brows dropped. “No one even knows I’m here. And if I put your orders ahead of theirs, I have no reason to tell them that either.”

“My orders?”

Ocelot smirked. “Haven’t you ever wanted your own pet spy?”

“Huh. I bet there’s more to this than respect for my fieldwork.” Ocelot’s blush deepened, but he didn’t respond. “Do I have to hold a knife to your throat to get you to talk?”

“It might help.”

Snake set his cigar down in the ashtray, and grinned.

***

Ocelot had thought he was used to how fast Snake could move. That smile was his only warning; in the next moment he was slammed face first into the wall, with the heat and weight of Snake’s body behind him and cold steel at his throat.

“Talk,” Snake growled in his ear.

“I haven’t gotten off in three months and I’m a little distracted!” It wasn’t what he had planned to say, five seconds ago when Snake was across the room from him, but it had the benefit of being true.

“Three months? Why?”

He could feel Snake’s breath on his neck as he spoke, it made him dizzy. “I told you, I take orders from you now.”

“Huh. Kinky.” Snake didn’t sound like that bothered him. And what was his free hand doing? “I’ll bet you’re getting off on this right now.” His hand slid down ocelot’s body, undid a button and a short zipper, and then – _Oh my god._

***

Snake chuckled as Ocelot arched against him. He hadn’t had another man’s cock in his hand before, but at this angle it was close enough to doing himself. The results so far were promising; Ocelot hadn’t even noticed that Snake had the dull side of the knife on his neck. No sense in risking accidents. Ocelot gasped and squirmed with every stroke, trying to keep still and failing; apparently he really had gone without for three months, since in less than a minute he shot his load onto Snake’s hand. Snake moved his fingers up in front of Ocelot’s face. “Eat it,” he ordered, and Ocelot did so without hesitation. 

“You are as queer as a three-dollar bill,” Snake told him.

“What does that make you?”

“Man enough not to care.” Snake ground his hips against Ocelot’s back to show him that he was turned on, too. He returned his knife to its sheath. “Come here.”

He sat back down, opening his trousers as he did so. Ocelot took the hint and dropped neatly to the floor in front of him. Snake hooked his hand around Ocelot’s head and pulled him in. This wasn’t some hasty encounter after a mission; Ocelot was taking his time, exploring his nerves and veins, making every lick count. Snake had met hookers with more skill, but Ocelot made up for it with sheer enthusiasm. And Snake hadn’t gotten much action in the last few months either.

Afterward, Ocelot rolled over so that he was leaning against the sofa. Snake picked up his neglected cigar, still patiently smouldering in the ashtray, and puffed on it. “So when exactly did you fall for me?”

“When you told me I was pretty good.”

“First time we met, huh? How long to admit it to yourself?”

“A while longer. And then I had to give Volgin an excuse why I was staring at your chest.” So he didn’t actually think torture was ‘the ultimate form of expression’? Good to know. Snake butted out his cigar.

“Where are you staying?”

“Don’t know yet. My gear’s on my bike.”

“Bring it inside.” Snake stood up. “I’ll see about dinner.”

Ocelot smirked. “Knowing you, it’s something you shot in the back yard.” This got an embarrassed look from Snake. “Seriously? What did you catch?”

“Rattler. They’re pretty good with mustard.”

“It can’t be worse than that toad you had in your pack in Grozny Grad.”


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, Snake woke to a weight draped over him, as if a cat had fallen asleep on him. Opening his eye, he saw that one had; a two-hundred-pound, blond, Russian cat. Last night he’d given Ocelot the choice of the floor, the sofa, or in bed with him. Now the other man was using his chest as a pillow, with one arm curled around his ribs and one leg thrown over his thigh. Snake sat up a bit and rubbed Ocelot’s back with one hand; this made him raise his head and blink at Snake before relaxing against him again.

“You really are a great big cat,” Snake told him.

Ocelot gave him a sly look. “Mrowr.”

“GRU operatives!” Snake exclaimed, and Ocelot dissolved into giggles.

“Good night?” Snake asked.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for not killing me in my sleep.”

“Same to you,” said Snake.

“I wouldn’t do that, I _like_ you.”

“Yeah. Same to you.” Snake didn’t miss the scarlet blush that covered Ocelot’s face. Kid had it bad. 

***

Snake lit a cigar, set his bare feet up on the coffee table and flipped open an issue of Popular Mechanics. A motorcycle growled outside; his new housemate was also home. Ocelot walked in wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a case of beer in the other. He set down both items and gave Snake a hungry look. “I’m going to change into something … more comfortable.”

“You do that.” Snake couldn’t hide a grin. Ocelot returned wearing nothing but sweatpants; he flopped down on the sofa and laid his head on Snake’s thigh. 

“Here.” He passed Snake a folded piece of paper. “Account numbers, memorise and destroy, you know the drill.”

“Account numbers?”

“It’s amazing how much cash there is in the Philosophers’ Legacy. A man – or two – could live comfortably on the rounding errors alone.”

Snake raised an eyebrow. “You’re skimming off the Philosophers’ Legacy. And giving me the account numbers.”

Ocelot spread his hands in a shrug. “What’s mine is yours, right?”

“You’re the contact I was supposed to meet instead of Eva.”

“Yeah. Who knows how that would have turned out.”

“Probably with me screwing you on Volgin’s desk.”

“With Raikov chained to the wall so he could see what he’s missing.” They both snickered.

Snake ran a hand through Ocelot’s hair. “Why me, though?”

“Because you’re just that good? Plus, you’re the only one besides me who can see The Sorrow.”

“The only one?”

“Even the Boss could only feel his presence. I think he likes you, too; I saw him tell you the code for the cells.”

Snake grunted; his memories of that incident were hazy and involved pain. Lots of pain. His hand tightened in Ocelot’s hair.

“Want to spar?” Ocelot asked suddenly.

“What?”

“You look like you want to kick someone’s ass.”

(Later …) 

Snake grinned down at him. “I’ve caught a wild Ocelot. I wonder how it tastes.” Ocelot barely had time to process this statement before Snake’s lips closed over his own. He forgot about the bruised elbow and the welts on his ribs; he shut out everything but the man on top of him. His scent of musk, cordite and cigars. His hand curled around Ocelot’s head, holding him in place. Snake moved a knee between his thighs, shoved them apart and lay between them, grinding their bodies together.


	4. Chapter 4

Rain poured down around the house like the proverbial Flood of Noah. Snake sprawled on the sofa, idly smoking a cigar, and watched Ocelot pace back and forth like a caged animal. “Problem, Cat?”

“I was going to go to the drive-in, they’re showing a new western.” Ocelot didn’t stop his pacing. He’d been here about a month, and Snake had gotten used to another man in his bed incredibly quickly. It didn’t hurt that Ocelot was serious about being his “pet spy” and spilled everything he knew about the KGB, GRU, CIA and Philosophers. 

“A western?” Snake prompted.

“Yeah. It’s a nice fantasy. White hats and black hats, everyone knows who’s on which side. The gunplay is usually good for a few laughs, too.”

“I’ll bet the handsome cowboys don’t hurt, huh?”

Ocelot shot him a smoldering sideways glare. “I don’t pay attention to those anymore.”

Snake grinned; he was definitely getting used to this. And if Ocelot needed to work off some frustration … “Get your guns, Adam, we’re going to the firing range.”

“The firing range? … Great, now you’ve got me doing it.”

***

That evening, they sat across from each other at the kitchen table to clean their weapons; Snake with a satisfied smirk, and Ocelot with a faint blush. He had spent almost as much time looking at Snake’s backside as his targets. For his part, Snake had used several clips’ worth of bullets to write “CIA + KGB” on his target and enclose it in a heart. Despite these distractions, Ocelot had still grouped his shots so tightly that his target had a single, fist-sized hole in it.

Snake looked up as something made the back of his neck prickle, and saw The Sorrow standing in the corner of the room. He poked Ocelot with his toe to alert him.

The ghost nodded at them, then reached behind him and produced a large card which read, [ Good evening. ]

“Uh, same to you,” said Snake. “I guess you can’t talk aloud, huh?”

The Sorrow nodded again, and flipped the card over to reveal new writing. [ I bring a message from the next world. ] 

“A message?”

Flip. [ She says to take care of each other. ] 

Snake and Ocelot looked at each other. No need to ask who ‘she’ was. “Why would she care about me, though?” said Ocelot. “I only knew her for a few weeks.”

The Sorrow’s smile grew wider. [ Snake, you have heard that the Boss birthed a child on the beaches of Normandy, yes? ]

“Yeah, and it got taken by the Philosophers. Why?”

[ Adam, what is your date of birth? ]

“June eighth, nineteen forty … four … No way.”

The Sorrow just smiled. Snake studied Ocelot’s face; now that he knew to look for it, the resemblance was pretty clear. “Yeah, I can see it,” he grunted. “Son-in-law of the Boss doesn’t have the same ring to it, though.”

The ghost chuckled silently, and Ocelot gave him a sideways glance. “Did you just propose to me?”

“Guess I did.”

The Sorrow flipped his card again. [ Adam, Snake, I see you have much to discuss. ]

“Call me John,” Snake told him.

Flip. [ Then you must call me Sasha. ] Flip. [ I shall leave you now, but we will meet again. ] His form faded into nothingness.

The two living men stared at each other for a moment. First Ocelot, then Snake, went back to cleaning their guns. “Son-in-law of the Boss, eh?” said Ocelot.

“Yeah.”

“I refuse to wear a dress.”

“I don’t know any preacher that would have us. How about I put you in a collar and leash and show you off at a bar?”

“You’d cause a riot.”

Snake gave him that grin of pure mischief. “I know a place.”


	5. Chapter 5

Friday night. Ocelot was a coiled mass of barely-concealed curiosity. He knew that such places existed; even in Russia, there were back-alley bars that catered to men’s taste in men. There had to be some in “decadent and degenerate” America as well. 

Snake had ordered Ocelot to wear only sweatpants and boots; in this costume, Ocelot paced across the living room impatiently while Snake changed into his own outfit. The door to the bedroom opened, Ocelot turned to look and any remaining thoughts went up in smoke. Snake was dressed in a black bandana, black tank top, thigh-hugging jeans, combat boots polished to a mirror finish, and a black leather jacket.

“Come here,” he ordered. With only one thought in his head, Ocelot went to his knees at Snake’s feet, mouth already watering. Snake chuckled. “Hold that thought, Adam.”

*** 

Snake pulled into the parking lot well after dark, faint music audible from within the bar. Ocelot looked around as he got out of the car; not exactly a high-class area. Snake’s car shared the lot with a fleet of motorbikes, several rusty pickups, and a couple of heavily modified hot rods. This should be fun.

“How did you even find this place?”

“Never go on a bar crawl with Sigint. Put your hands behind your back.” Click-click, handcuffs closed on Ocelot’s wrists.

“Ordinary cuffs? I can be out of these in five seconds.”

“I know. They stay on unless a fight breaks out. Last thing.” Snake buckled a leather collar around Ocelot’s neck and clipped a leash to it. The corners of Ocelot’s lips curled upward, and he stood up straighter. Other soldiers got medals; Ocelot had never cared about them, but he imagined that getting one might feel like this. The notion only lasted a second before Snake kissed him and erased all rational thought. Then Snake tugged the leash and led him into the bar by it.

Heads turned at their entrance. Ocelot preened under the stares; Snake seemed to ignore them. He took a stool at the bar, and with a gesture told Ocelot to kneel at his feet. _I like the way this is going._

Snake suppressed a grin a tOcelot’s body language. He knew what his own, or for that matter most soldiers’ reaction would be to getting collared and told to get on their knees. Ocelot, on the other hand, was acting like he’d gotten the Medal of Honor. _Definitely got it bad._ He ordered two beers, one with a straw, and settled back to enjoy the other patrons’ reactions. The stares were divided evenly between him and Ocelot. _Jealous, boys?_

He set Ocelot’s beer on the floor beside his stool; Ocelot, taking the hint, wrapped his lips around the straw and turned drinking beer into an obscene act. As his cheeks hollowed around the straw, he stared at Snake through his lashes; when he lifted his head, he let a drop of liquid trail from the corner of his mouth. Snake’s jeans were suddenly far too tight.

Like any trained agent, though, he stayed aware of the other men in the room. Most were civilians; a handful were enlisted, but none were anywhere near a threat to him. Not that they were aware of that. One beefy man, festooned with chains and chrome studs, swaggered up to the bar to try to talk up Ocelot.

“Hey there, handsome. Looks like you’re in a bind, want someone to help you out of it?”

Ocelot gave him the look that usually came with a bullet to the throat. “I’m enjoying myself where I am.” He bent to take another sip of beer.

The other man growled. “You’re going to brush me off? You’re nothing but a little bitch in handcuffs.”

Ocelot straightened to a version of parade rest on his knees. “And yet somehow, I’m still manlier than you.”

The chain rack turned an interesting shade of purple. “Why, you –” He shifted his attention from Ocelot to Snake. Snake looked him in the eye.

“If you can’t handle the man I have on a leash at my feet,” he said, “What makes you think you can handle me?” His tone got across how little he was impressed; the other man deflated and slunk away. Snake turned back to the bar and ordered another round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is all I've got for now. Watch this space.


End file.
